Idle
by AshlynnCoy
Summary: Just after the events of Star Wars Annual #2 Leia is trying to find her way back into the action. Han and Luke conspire to keep that from happening. A trip aboard a freshly repaired Millennium Falcon seems like a way to keep the princess still, but when there's nothing to fix or fiddle with, Han and Leia have to find other ways to pass the time.
1. Chapter 1

Luke approached his friend as he was offloading a pile of small crates from the forward hold of The Millennium Falcon. Han had just returned from a quick turnaround to Mnubria- a trip that he'd made a very vocal point about not wanting to take. Had it been anything other than medicines, he would have begged off, but he'd grown a soft spot for the Alliance Medical Corps of late, so he'd agreed to take on the errand.

"Heya, kid," Han greeted his friend.

"Leia's not cooperating," Luke said then cutting straight to the point he'd come here to discuss.

"Well, color me surprised," Han said back with a shrug as he continued to load the little cases from the hold onto a waiting repulsor cart. But Luke looked impatient. "Seriously," Han added, finally pausing to give his friend his full attention, "She's never been a particularly cooperative girl, Luke. What is it she's doin' now that's got you feelin' like you oughta tell me about it?"

"It isn't me she's not cooperating with this time," Luke replied. "It's her doctors. She's not listening to her care team."

Han nodded. That sounded like her highness all right. Leia wasn't very good at responding to invisible danger. As far as she was concerned, she had a wound in her side; it had been treated and bandaged, she was managing her pain, and that was that. Never mind the parts of the story where she nearly bled to death and almost died from sepsis- that stuff just didn't matter. And with her very powerful aversion to all things medical, Han could see where she was trying to put the whole Skorii-Lei business behind her.

"So I'm guessin' you think we oughta do somethin' about it?" Han asked. Luke nodded.

"If we can. Got any ideas?"

Han nodded. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed. But having been the one to carry her aboard the Falcon and sit by her through the night when there was still a very real chance that she might not make it back to base had made him a little extra-sensitive on the subject of her health. So he'd figured he was overreacting to her possibly ignoring her long-term recovery. But if it was also bothering Luke, then maybe it wasn't such an overreaction.

"Yeah," Solo admitted, "I got a couple. Chewie!" he called out to his copilot. The Wookiee was tinkering with a set of hydraulic lines seated in the underside of the Falcon's hull. He ducked out from behind the open panel and replied with an interested trill. Han motioned with his head for Chewie to join them. He was sure by how quickly his copilot hurried over that Chewie had been listening in. "Do me a favor, will ya?" Han asked his buddy as soon as he was close enough that there was no chance of being overheard. "Get a crew to work on the Falcon," he requested. Chewie warbled his confusion; it wasn't often that Han let any Alliance mechanics lay a hand on his beloved freighter. "Yeah, buddy, I know," Han said, "but sometimes ya gotta do whatcha gotta do. And right now we gotta get the old girl ship-shape and in a hurry. Ask Antilles and Januu," he recommended, "whoever they'd trust, I'll trust. But we gotta get it done quick, and we gotta keep it quiet, ya know?"

Chewie nodded his head. He did know. He trilled his understanding as he stepped away from the others. Solo had something up his sleeve- it probably involved the princess, and for it to work, he needed the ship to perform as expected and have no surprises in store. That much he was sure he could handle. As for anything else involving Solo and the princess, he was sure he'd never fully understand that dynamic.

"What are you thinking?" Luke asked his friend. Solo shrugged.

"I'll tell you when I'm sure," Han replied. "But for now I'm just gonna need you to keep her worship out of the hangar. She so much as gets a whiff of this repair crew aboard the Falcon and she'll know somethin's up. Can you help me?"

"Sure," Luke replied, "I can do that."

"Good. I'll come find you when things are firm. Right now I gotta go scare up a cargo."

##&##

"Hey, highness, I gotta talk to you!" Leia looked up from her reading and sighed.

"Hello, Han," she said back.

"You got a minute?" he asked, flopping into bench beside her as though there was no chance of her answering in the negative.

"I might," she replied with a scowl, "if you promise to refrain from royal epithets." Han chuckled, but nodded. In truth, Leia felt relieved that Solo had come to chat. Even an argument with him would be a few minutes reprieve.

Luke had come to her yesterday asking that she pretty please give him a primer on the Alliance Uniform Code of Military Justice. He was looking to be promoted to Group Leader, he'd told her, and the place where he was seriously lacking was in his understanding of the regs. He'd pointed out that, with her life spent in the halls of legislation, she was the absolute most qualified of his friends to help him out on this front, and he'd been so sweet with the way he'd asked that she just couldn't say no.

Which had resulted in her spending the last day and a half pouring over the parts of the Uniform Code that were relevant to and enforceable by officers of The Line. She'd been flattered by the request at the time, and she was happy to help her friend advance, but The Code was a complex and tedious read. She welcomed the chance to come up for air- even if it was in the company of Han Solo.

"No name calling," he promised.

"So," she asked, "what is it? What do you need to talk to me about?"

"I got asked to pick up a cargo that I think could use your particular skill set."

"Really?" Leia asked. She'd been on plenty of supply runs with Solo before, but she wasn't sure he'd ever asked for her 'particular skill set'. There was something fishy going on, and she wasn't sure she liked it.

"Yeah, really," he replied. "It ain't like it's dangerous or anything," he added, "it's just that…" he scooted closer to her and inclined his head toward her ear before going on, "I think this one requires a girl."

"What?" Leia quizzed. She looked offended, and that was the last thing Han wanted from her in this moment. He had to get her to agree to this or his ridiculous plan to get her to take it easy for a few days wasn't going to work.

"I saw the manifest," he shared. "And I got about as far as 'menstrual supplies' when I decided I wasn't the guy to take delivery on this stuff. I wouldn't know what I was lookin' at," he explained. "This stuff needs a woman to check it out, make sure it's legit, make sure the Alliance is gettin' what they paid for. And seein' as you're the only lady I can imagine havin' aboard the Falcon all the way to Kalyspil and back, I came to ask if you'd please come along and handle this pickup." Leia shook her head and set down her datapad on the bench between them.

"Why is it that men are so uncomfortable with women's bodies?" she asked. "Does the idea of shipping hygiene supplies really bother you that much?"

"No," he answered abruptly, before she had a chance to ask any further question on the subject. "I don't mind haulin' the stuff. It doesn't squick me out or make me uncomfortable. But there's no way I'm gonna know if the quality of this cargo is up to snuff. I get that these...items… are necessary and I'd hate to be the guy who brought back a whole freighter's full of sub-standard goods."

Leia frowned at Solo beside her. This was the most reasoned, cogent, argument she might have imagined Solo making under the circumstances. And as much as a trip to Kalyspil would likely be an exercise in tedium, she could use a jaunt aboard the Falcon right about now. Not once since she'd been released from Medical had Han asked after her well-being beyond a casual 'how ya doing' and he hadn't made even the most passing mention of her needing to 'slow down' or 'take care of herself'.

She was well aware of the extent of her injuries on Skorii-Lei, but she was past that now. The forced idleness of her long-term recovery on base was causing her no end of grief. There was always something to fiddle with aboard the Falcon- always something that needed fixing or tuning, always some little way she could find to occupy herself and feel useful.

Suddenly, this trip- this excuse to get out from under the watchful eye of all her well-intentioned friends and colleagues, was sounding like a very _very_ good idea.

Luke's deeper understanding of The Uniform Code could wait until they got back.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

The departure for Kalyspil had been rather abrupt. Leia hadn't minded so much. It wasn't too hard to pack for a trip when you hardly owned anything.

It wasn't like before.

Once upon a time she'd have spent a full day deciding which of her flight suits was best for travel aboard the ship that was scheduled to make the trip. She'd have decided which of her casual clothes would be most appropriate for the meeting with the supplier. She'd have picked out a gown, or maybe two, from her extensive collection to have along in case the initial meeting could be parlayed into the possibility of a larger-scale summit on behalf of the Alliance. These were her habits- the habits of a Princess turned Senator in a struggle to restore a Republic.

But that was no longer her life. She may have retained her royal title, but none of the trappings of royalty or of rule remained. The choice of flight suits had come down to 'take it or don't'. Her inventory of casual clothes had dwindled to mismatched separates cobbled together out of Alliance stores and uniform issues. And her gown selection had been depleted to the order of having only two remaining: her Senatorial day dress that had survived scouring after its trip through the Death Star trash compactor, and the white evening gown she'd worn to present medals to the heroes of the battle of Yavin. Neither of those would be making the trip.

Dressed in her one remaining flight suit, and carrying a case containing a few clean sets of basics, a too-nice-for-the-circumstances nightgown that had been accidentally left behind the last time she'd departed Yavin before her ill-fated trip to Tatooine, and a proper uniform to wear to receive the cargo, she met Han at the foot of the boarding ramp. She'd taken to keeping a bottle of soap, toothbrush, and a pair of warm socks aboard The Millennium Falcon, so this would be enough.

Han never mentioned how light her luggage was; he never seemed to notice how little she had. Maybe that was a fringe benefit of her having met him when she did. He had no memory of _before_ Leia. He'd never seen her with a retinue of servants and a cadre of bodyguards; the Princess giving orders as her ample wardrobe in matched luggage was loaded into her comfortable quarters. The mighty had fallen- in her case it had been a long way down. But Han Solo hadn't known her like that. He only knew her as she was now. There was neither pity nor mocking when he looked at her.

That lack of prior knowledge was a double-edged sword, she knew. In the absence of pity there was also an absence of deference. He didn't understand royalty, he'd admitted as much to her once. He didn't understand where she'd come from, but maybe that was why he seemed to understand her where she was so well. There was no automatic level of respect from Solo, but he was willing to meet her where she was- and in a lot of ways she preferred that to the default of reverence she could never be sure she'd actually earned.

She had hope, largely thanks to his lack of understanding of her previous life, that Han wouldn't tease her for the condition of her flight suit. It had been washed and mended as best the Alliance was able after the disastrous events on Skorii-Lei, but the stains on it were likely to be permanent. She'd never had to wear mended or stained clothing before. The Quartermaster had promised her a new one, and she'd been assured that it was coming. But she wasn't exactly the size of the average Alliance flier. The new duds would need to be sewn-to-order, and there was little in the way of man hours to do such a thing. Custom garments weren't the norm on Yavin 4, and Leia had assured those charged with creating the garment that she could wait as long as she needed to for the flight suit. The one they'd mended would do until the replacement was ready.

To tell the truth, she hadn't expected to require one so quickly. It had seemed as though the entire Alliance had taken it upon themselves to keep her still and quiet ever since her return from Skorii-Lei. She was well aware of how poorly that mission had gone; she'd been assured from all directions that she wasn't being punished for getting herself in trouble, but from where she sat it certainly felt like she was. It had come as no small surprise that her trip to Kalyspil with Han and Chewie had been approved so easily. But she was happy to have something productive to do- even if it meant taking off in a stained and mended flight suit.

She'd settled in quickly into the makeshift cabin Han had fixed for her aboard his ship and had been able to join him and Chewie in the cockpit in time for liftoff. It was only then that she learned the full extent of what she'd agreed to. Leia had only been vaguely aware of where Kalyspil was in relation to Yavin. She knew it wasn't a day trip. But the particulars of the journey left her wondering if maybe she should have packed a few more changes of underthings.

Kalyspil, it turned out, was in a uniquely active region of space near the Corp Sec. Two days in hyperspace would get them as close as was safe, and it would be another day or more in real space through the churning of the asteroids, the sea of racing comets, and substellar burning gases that hung and drifted in the region without pattern nor permanence. Three days there and three days back- at least- with at least two days on the surface to transfer funds and receive the shipment.

She might as well make herself useful. She'd learned in the short time she'd known Solo and Chewie that there was always something to be done aboard their ship. Other than that first night off of Skorii-Lei when she'd been too badly injured to contribute, her hands had yet to be idle aboard the old freighter. She'd checked all of the usual places; she'd come to know where she could often find a sticky hinge or a loose flap. But she found those quirks that she'd normally have set to remedy in no need of repair. Her normal bits of business aboard the Falcon were, to the last task, already complete.

"Don't laugh," she said to Solo as she came into the lounge from the ring corridor. She'd spent enough time ribbing him for the usual state of this bucket that she was sure he'd want to gloat a little at her assertion that she could find nothing in need of repair. "But none of the things I usually work on seem to need my attention. What is there to do?" She asked plainly.

"Nothin'," Han answered with a shrug, only taking a moment to look up from his game of dejarik. It was the computer's move next, and he wanted to see what was about to happen.

"On this ship?" Leia quizzed, "I don't believe you." She'd never been aboard the Millennium Falcon when there was nothing that needed repairing. More likely it was that the only things that could use work were things that Solo didn't yet trust her to tinker with. And if that was the case- he was going to have to own it. But, then again, when had she come aft and found him quietly playing dejarik by himself instead of elbows deep in the guts of the ship? Maybe his claim had some merit to it after all.

"Well believe it," he insisted. The computer made its move and Han frowned. He considered the board for another moment and then looked back up at Leia. "Those first couple of nights after Skorii-Lei," he explained "when they were keepin' you in medical- when they still weren't sure if maybe they were gonna put you back in the bacta- I know they had you sedated but I also know how you feel about med bays; so I stayed over there. I didn't want you to have to wake up alone in there."

"Oh," Leia said. The revelation that he'd stayed with her in the med bay was new information- not that she was surprised. He'd stayed with her- slept on the floor- the two nights they'd spent in transit on the way back to Yavin. He'd been genuinely worried that she might die. Not that she hadn't been equally worried, but still it had been awfully sweet of him to have stayed by her side even after she'd gotten medical attention. That wasn't the kind of behavior she expected of a mercenary like Solo, but this wasn't the first time he'd surprised her with care and concern. There was more to this brash, handsome smuggler than she'd first presumed. But she still wasn't sure what that had to do with the state of the ship.

"Well," Han continued, "as a thank you, or something, while I was there your Alliance managed to sneak aboard my ship and fix everything." Han didn't like lying to the princess. But seeing as the whole point of this subterfuge was to get her to sit still for a while, he needed to make sure she was aware that Alliance mechanics had given the freighter a once-over. And knowing Leia, admitting that the work had been done specifically to keep her from finding anything to do while traveling aboard The Falcon would not have ended well for any of them. And he had stayed with her in the med bay the whole time, that part was the truth. It was better for everyone involved if Leia bought his story.

"So there's nothing to do," she surmised. Solo nodded as he decided on his next dejarik move.

"Not a damned thing," he answered, trying his best to look annoyed, or at least to hide his smug satisfaction that the plan he'd come up with seemed to be working. "You want next game?" he asked. Leia shrugged. If Han's plans for the day amounted to sitting idle and playing dejarik, then she could probably take his word for the fact that there was nothing productive to do. She crossed to the crash couch and slid herself onto the bench seat beside him.

"I'd rather beat you than the computer," she replied, putting just enough mirth into her tone that she was sure Solo's competitive streak would kick in. He shook his head and flipped the switch to re-set the table, cancelling out his game against the computer and beginning a new one for the two of them.

"Prepare to be schooled, your highnessness," he said to her. "I'll even let you make the first move."


	3. Chapter 3

THREE

Han Solo was not known for being a morning person, so Leia was more than a little surprised at his good spirits the first morning of the journey toward Kalyspil.

"Good morning, your royal sleepiness," he greeted her, shoving a cup of warm caf into her hand as she came back into the lounge from having washed her face and brushed her teeth in the aft fresher. Leia replied with a yawn. One of the nicest things about travel with Han and Chewie aboard the Falcon was that she didn't have to pretend to be a morning person. On base, she was up with revelee, coiffed, dressed, and at her station before she was due. But that had never been her preferred way of rising. A slow, peaceful wakeing, leisurely ablutions, and a relaxed cup of caf before she was expected to perform suited her far better.

With Han and Chewie, she didn't have to wake up so fast. Still in her nightgown and wooly socks, with a pair of thermal leggings and a uniform jacket thrown on for modesty, she slunk down onto the bench seat at the dejarik table and looked back up at the smiling Corellian leaning against the nearby bulkhead. Solo was normally even more grumpy than she was in the morning. Either something was up, or she'd slept far longer than she'd figured.

She was especially suspicious of his chipper demeanor in light of the last conversation they'd had. He'd spent the better part of half an hour trying to convince her to spend the night in the medical bunk instead of in her cabin. The bunk had sensors, he'd reminded her repeatedly, and the sensors had alarms. He contended he'd sleep better knowing that he'd be alerted if her health took a turn for the worse overnight. Leia couldn't remember the last time she'd rolled her eyes so hard at anyone.

It had been more than a week since they'd left Skorii-Lei. Forty hours in bacta tanks and another sixteen under uncomfortably close medical scrutiny and she just wanted to put the whole thing behind her. Han had been the one person who hadn't seemed to be treating her with kid gloves since the incident, so it was with both disappointment and annoyance that she rebuffed his request. And he'd been as annoyed with her as she was with him.

Bickering between the two of them was commonplace, and it had honestly felt good to have it out with him a little over the sleeping arrangements. Nothing signaled a full recovery more than people no longer going out of their way to be kind. Maybe that's what this was. Maybe he was feeling contrite for being so sharp-tongued toward someone who was supposed to be convalescing. Whatever it was, it was unusual to see Han in such high spirits so early in the day.

She reclined against the back of the crash couch and inhaled deeply the scent of the caf in her hands. She wasn't sure when or how Han had learned just how she liked her caf in the morning, but the smell coming from her mug told her that he'd gotten it pretty much perfect. And it wasn't just the caf that smelled good. There was something else in the air in here that Leia wasn't used to smelling; it was nice.

"What's got you in such a good mood this morning?" she asked Han, looking over the rim of her mug at him, "and what smells so good?"

"Two questions, one answer," he told her, sliding onto the bench beside her and waggling his eyebrows. Leia was wondering if she was about to regret asking. "Chewie's making sizzle cakes," he shared. His voice was conspiratorial, and quiet- like he wanted to be sure that no one overheard. Which was odd, seeing as the only other person in the room was Chewbacca, and he was allegedly the one doing the cooking; the talk of sizzle cakes would be no news to him.

"How?" Leia asked, taking a sip from her caf as she regarded him dubiously. The Falcon had no proper galley. There was an instakettle wired into the port bulkhead that Han kept more or less in working order for the purposes of hot caf and rehydrating ration packs, but Leia had never so much as heard of anything being actually cooked aboard the freighter before.

"You know how I told you your guys fixed up my ship for me?" he asked.

"You mean when you complained you had nothing to do?" she replied. Back-to-Back games of dejarik had gotten a little boring yesterday. Han had spent a few minutes griping about sitting idle. He hadn't realized when he'd arranged for there to be nothing for her to fix just how frustrated he'd be making himself in the process. Of course, he couldn't exactly tell Leia that. And he couldn't follow his normal inclination- to take something apart that didn't really need it just for the satisfaction of putting it back together- because she'd insist on helping out and that would blow the whole plan. So he had to be content with finding other pastimes and the occasional string of complaints.

"Yeah, that," he allowed. "Well, it turns out when they were giving the Falcon the once-over, they fixed the hot plate. That thing hasn't worked the whole time I've owned the old girl. I wasn't sure it could be fixed, and to tell ya the truth, it'd never been my priority to try. But they sure as damn hell fixed it. Chewie found out it was working before we took off and managed to scrounge up some ingredients. You're in for a treat, highness," he told her. "We're havin' a hot breakfast. And Chewie's quite the cook."

"Is that right, Chewie?" Leia called over her shoulder to where Chewie was tending the hot plate. The device was adjacent to the instakettle, built in to the port bulkhead. Leia had never seen it before, as Han had taken to keeping the freeze-dried ration packs piled on top. She'd had no idea there was a cooking surface underneath all that. Chewie warbled back at her in the affirmative. It was clear from both her hosts' demeanor that she was likely in for a treat.


	4. Chapter 4

Leia could have spent the whole day drinking caf and eating sizzle cakes. In truth, she practically had. Chewbacca, it seemed, had greatly overestimated the amount of batter it would take to satisfy the three of them at breakfast time. And seeing as sizzle cake batter didn't keep, their options came down to tossing out the excess, or cooking the lot of it and doing their best to eat all of the resulting cakes. Knowing that the finished product wouldn't keep much better than the batter would have left the three of them munching on sweets on and off throughout the day.

Han had complained more than once that sizzle cakes needed Bright Syrup to be really good, which had led to an hours-long debate on the merits of sweet vs savory breakfast foods and the a contentious discussion on Corellian Bright Syrup (an unpredictable mishmash of Corellian fruits that Leia had always found to be cloyingly sweet and thoroughly unappetizing but Han had indescribable affection for) in general. Sitting around eating cakes and debating the finer points of sweet treats with Han and Chewie all day had been just what Leia needed.

Although it hurt to laugh after a while, she'd enjoyed the jocularity and easy camaraderie of being with friends when there was nothing productive to do. She'd tried to get Chewie to let her help with the cooking, but her requests had been rebuffed with a particular flavor of Wookiee growl that had made her think better of asking again. Eventually, he'd agreed to teach her how to clean the griddle once they were all out of batter and the thing had cooled adequately. Han hadn't been so happy about that, ad had waited 'til Leia was in the 'fresher to remind his buddy that the whole reason they even had a griddle to cook on this trip was that they' wanted to make sure Leia remained idle so she could heal. If he'd wanted Leia's help in scouring the cooking equipment, he wouldn't have let strangers aboard the ship to begin with.

Chewbacca had promised Han that he'd only be _teaching_ Leia how to clean the hot plates, not actually letting her do any of the work. The reminded that she wouldn't always be convalescing, but that she would always be looking for ways to help out on the Falcon; allowing her mastery of a task such as keeping the galley clean (although admittedly eyeroll-inducing in its sexism) would be a way to keep her occupied and allow her to feel useful on future missions if Han didn't want her hands in the more critical systems of the ship. Solo couldn't argue with that. Leia would get better, and she'd surely be traveling aboard his ship again in the future- exclusively so if he had anything to do with it- so there was no harm in teaching her how to maintain some of the freighter's systems.

As long as she didn't exert herself much _now._

He shuddered to think what might have become of the princess had it been anyone but himself, Luke, and Chewie assigned to bring her back from Skorii-Lei. They had been told in no uncertain terms that the rendezvous time was hard and tight and that if she wasn't there on schedule they were to leave without her. Han had wondered at the time if General Cracken had sent the Falcon because he knew there was no way they'd actually do that. Their launch window had already been closing when Pash Devane had appeared out of the bay with the wounded princess in her arms, and the crew of the Falcon had already agreed not to leave without their final passenger.

They'd been well into working out the logistics of a search when Leia had turned up. They'd gotten her out alive, but only just. It would be a long time before Han Solo trusted any other pilot with ferrying the princess places. Ever since they'd gotten off the Death Star together, he'd felt this powerful need to assure her safety.

He was trying not to think too hard about that when Leia emerged again from the aft cabin, snagging yet another sizzle cake off the pile before coming back to sit at the dejarik table.

"You know," she said to the others, tearing off a piece of crispy dough and popping it into her mouth, "The part of Kalyspil where we're headed is full of market stalls and farm stands. I bet we could find all sorts of delicious things to make on the way back to base." Chewie trilled in agreement. He'd already started thinking along those same lines, but he hadn't known until Leia just said so that Kalyspil would be so rife with possibile ingredients.

"Never knew you were such a good cook, your highness," Han said back, casting a glance over at Chewie that he hoped his friend understood. The last thing he wanted was to give the princess carte blanche to be on her feet and toiling at the hot plate the whole return trip. Chewbacca nodded. He understood.

"Oh, no," Leia replied, assuaging some of Solo's concern, "I'm really not. I can barely rehydrate noodles without goofing something up. But Chewie here seems awfully skilled." The Wookiee chuffed at the praise. Leia's grasp of Shriiwook was improving all the time, and she was pretty sure that his warbled reply was something like ' _anything you'd like, little princess'._ Leia was sure that she'd have been bothered by anyone else referring to her as 'little princess' but somehow coming from Chewie, she didn't mind the diminutive.

"Anything she wants?" Solo challenged, "what about me, ya big galoot? I'm the one who…."

Chewie interrupted before Han could get any farther. They wanted Leia to get better, right? And wasn't he always worried that she wasn't eating enough… well, up until today's episode with unending sizzle cakes, that was…? So wouldn't it be better, just this once, to let her have first crack at picking the menu? Chewie made his point quickly in hopes that Leia wouldn't quite catch everything he was saying, and as Solo agreed, he was sure that it had worked.

"Yeah, all right," he allowed, "she's the guest. We can let her pick. _Some_ things," he amended, "but if I find nerf steaks and charbote root relish then I'm putting my foot down as Captain and buying a double portion."


	5. Chapter 5

Han had sworn that it had been an accident, but the yogger tea he'd made the lot of them at bedtime had been the strongest Leia had ever tasted. She'd only let herself wonder for a moment if he'd meant to get her drunk, but then she'd decided that she didn't so much care. So what if the tea was a little strong? She'd fallen asleep easily, and that was the whole point of yogger tea at bedtime.

But when she'd woken up halfway through the night with pain in her side, she remembered that there had been things she needed to handle before bedtime. The light in her cabin aboard the Falcon had never been particularly good, so she made her way ou tin to the ship's lounge where she knew the visibility would be better. She set her supplies down on the medical bunk and tugged up the tail of her undershirt tucking it under her chin as best she could.

She was concentrating so hard on peeling back the bandage from over the wound on her side that she didn't hear Han's footsteps as he came up behind her.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he walked past her, toward the recently repaired potable water tap. Leia did her best to nod while keeping her shirt tail tucked beneath her chin.

"Just dealing with the dressing," she answered. Han poured himself a drink from the tap and then crossed to have a better look at what she was doing. "You?" she asked. It was the middle of the night, and he'd had as much tea as she had; she hadn't expected he'd be awake.

"A little dehydrated," he said. "I think I overdid it on the tea." Leia chuckled. He probably had, at that.

"Yeah, I'll say," Leia agreed, turning toward him just enough so that he'd see her smile and know she wasn't really unhappy about it.

"Damn, sweetheart," Han said when he got a look at the open wound i her side, "that looks bad." Leia shrugged. She never knew what to do when he called her that. Sometimes he used that diminutive like a curse- like 'sweetheart' was the worst insult he could come up with. Those times she could handle it. But when he said it like he said it just now, sincerely, the way her father used to say it when he called her mother by that name… it made her feel conflicted. It stirred her in ways she didn't want to be stirred. She tried very hard not to think about it as she finished pulling the bandage from her side.

"At this point I think it looks worse than it is," she said. Han frowned. He wasn't sure he was buying it. He took a seat on the medical bunk, facing Leia, and looked closer.

"Well, it looks pretty bad," he said. Leia nodded.

"It had a lot of infection in it," she explained, folding up the used bandage and tossing it onto the bunk beside Han. She reached then for the unopened one she'd brought out from her cabin and began tearing at the wrapper. "They had to open it back up," she said, "clean it out. It's okay now," she added, "I just have to keep the bacta alive- change the nutrient patch every other day- and by the time we get back, they should be able to close it back. If I'm lucky," she qualified, "it might not even scar." Leia frowned as she fought with the flimsiplast wrapper in her hands, unable to pull it open no matter what she tried. She's begun to consider tearing into it with her teeth when Solo held out his hands. Leia sighed heavily, but relented. She gave him the packet and then took her shirt tail back into her hands, lowering it a little, but mostly making sure that the whole wound was well-exposed so that Han could get the bandage on properly.

"Good," he said back. "Does it hurt still?" he asked, tearing into the flimsiplast around the nutrient patch open and removing it gingerly from its wrapper. Leia nodded.

"A little," she replied, "sometimes." Han held his breath as he carefully moved to place the patch over the bright red gash in Leia's side.

"How's that?" he asked, gently smoothing the patch down with the palm of his hand. Leia's breath was shaky, but she nodded.

"That's good," she answered, "thank you." Leia let her shirt fall back into place and moved to pick up the spent bandage and empty wrapper from the bunk beside Han. She hadn't even realized she'd winced a little when she bent over until she felt Han's fingers on her arm.

"Let me get that," he offered, gathering up the trash and wadding it into a tight ball into his fist. Leia nodded.

"Thanks," she said. Han looked back over at her and shook his head.

"And let me get you something for the pain?" he offered next. Leia sighed. She hated pain medication. She hated _needing_ pain medication. It made her feel weak to have to depend on chemical assistance to be okay. But the medics back on Yavin had drilled into her how important pain control was for her long-term healing. And, somehow, it wasn't embarrassing to need a little pain relief in front of Han- not like it would have been had he been anyone else, anyway.

He'd been the person who literally carried her onto the ship when there was still a chance she could have died from this wound. He'd slept on the floor of the lounge so that she wouldn't wake up alone and delirious with fever. He'd been the one to find a crutch in the Falcon's lockers so that she could get to and from the fresher on her own when her core muscles just didn't want to support her well enough to let her stand or walk. What was asking for a pain patch in comparison to that?

"Yeah," she agreed, "all right." Han placed his hand on her shoulder as he stood up. He turned around to open the overhead locker and tossed the trash inside- he could deal with that later. And besides, the Alliance personnel had left his ship a little _too_ orderly for his tastes. A little trash in the locker would probably make him feel better about the state of things. He snagged a pain patch from out of his recently-refreshed medpac, snapped it open, and turned back to Leia.

"Here," he said, sliding the patch carefully onto the side of her neck. "That should help. You know," he said, reaching up to shut the locker, but with his other hand still on Leia's shoulder, "you gave us a hell of a scare."

"Want to hear something strange?" she asked then. Han nodded, sinking down to sit on the edge of the bunk again and gesturing for her to do the same. Leia slid onto the bunk and folded her hands in her lap. "I wasn't scared at all," she shared.

"Really?" Han asked.

"Really," Leia answered. "It wasn't like I was sure I wasn't going to die," she said, "in fact, there was one point when I was sure I would. I just wasn't scared about it."

"Yeah, well," Han countered, "could you maybe try being a little less fearless down the road? 'Cause there's a bunch of us who're glad you stuck around."

"It's not like I have some sort of death wish," she countered. "I just… I wasn't afraid."

"Well, I was afraid enough for the both of us," he admitted, reaching out to squeeze her hand. Whatever he was about to say next was swallowed by a had barely settled when Leia yawned as well, causing the both of them to erupt in laughter.

"It's the middle of the night," Leia reminded.

"It's the middle of the night," Han agreed. "You gonna be able to sleep?" he asked. Leia nodded as she stood from the bunk and yawned again.

"Yeah," she replied. "I think so. A fresh bandage and a little something for the pain should be eough."

"Good," he said. "And if it's not," he added, gesturing to the overhead locker where he kept the Falcon's medpac, "you know you can help yourself."

"I do know," she replied. "Thank you."

"Yeah, you're welcome, sweetheart," he said back. Leia felt her cheeks get warm- there was that word again. Since when had Han Solo been so sweet to her?

"Good night, Han," she said, not turning to face him for fear of her blush becoming visible.

"Good night, princess," he replied, "see you at breakfast time."

"Something other than sizzle cakes," she called back.

"I'll see what I can do," he told her, "but no promises."


	6. Chapter 6

SIX

The two days in hyperspace had gone by quickly, between dejarik and sizzle cakes and sleeping a little extra, the time had flown by. But the day that they were forced to spend in realspace seemed to pass interminably slow.

The system around Kalyspil was gnarly and inhospitable. There was no way an autopilot, even one as well-honed and overpowered as the one aboard the Millennium Falcon could safely navigate it. That left Han stuck in the pilot's seat all day- a position that he normally wouldn't mind, but that was grating on him in light of his inability to watch over Leia while he flew the ship. And even with nothing obvious to be done aboard the ship, Han knew better than to think she'd stay idle for long without some outside pressure.

It had been Chewie who'd figured out how to get her to sit still. He'd asked her for help in carrying tea (of the decidedly non-soporific variety) to Han in the cockpit and had gotten her to sit down and enjoy a cup herself. After that, he'd managed to engage her in lively conversation as to what they might find in Kalyspil's markets to enjoy on the way back to base. The Falcon's cooler wasn't particularly generous, so they'd have to be thoughtful about what fresh ingredients they brought on board.

Leia's knowledge of food and ingredients had both surprised and amused Solo. She was so very Alderaani about so many things that it had been easy to forget that she'd lived part time on Coruscant for nearly a quarter of her life. Her familiarity with intergalactic cuisines was more than enough reminder. And her absolute ignorance of what went into her favorite dishes and whether or not they could be repared using nothing more than a hot plate and an instakettle was enough to remind them all that she'd been raised a princess.

"I've always thought Gatalentan food was bland," Han commented, taking a sip from his tea while he had the chance. The comets in this part of the system were fewer and farther between in than in the space that lay ahead of them. If he was going to get a chance to drink tea before they reached atmosphere, now was the time.

"Not the places I've gotten it," Leia responded. "Although, I suppose 'bland' can be rather subjective." Chewie warbled an enthusiastic agreement, and something Leia only partially understood about Corellians and hot peppers and a Wookiee's delicate palate.

"But it doesn't matter anyway," Han said. "Because you need an oven to make grain pudding- same as you need one for Bilbringi meat pies. And we don't have a oven."

"Can we get an oven?" Leia asked. "Will they have one on Kalyspil? How hard can it be to install an oven?" Han couldn't help himself but to laugh at the contention.

"I'm not putting in an oven for Gatalentan grain pudding," he said.

"Not even for Bilbrigni meat pies?" she asked, hoping that reminding him that some of his favorite dishes required baking as well.

"Not even for charbote dumplings and molten mocoa cakes."

"That's too bad," she said back. "I happen to like molten mocoa cakes."

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart," Han countered, "you agree to run away with me, and I'll agree to put in an oven." Leia shook her head as she rocked her seat back and forth.

"I'll let you know if I ever get desperate for cakes or grain pudding," she told him.

"Do you hear that, Chewie," Han addressed his friend in the next seat, "sounds like I've got a shot." Leia chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

"It's a good thing I never had much of a sweet tooth, then," she offered. Han shrugged in Chewie's direction as he moved to juke the Falcon out of the way of a large, spinning asteroid that would have crossed their path otherwise.

"Hey," Solo countered, "I didn't say it was a good chance." Leia laughed louder as she gently kicked at the back of Han's chair. An asteroid hit the shields then, with enough of a thud to make Leia jump a little in her seat.

"Nothin' to worry about, sweetheart," Han assured her. "Too small for the sensors means too small to be bothered with."

"If you're sure," she allowed. She settled again and shook her head. "How did Kalyspil become such a center of commerce when the space around it's bad like this?"

"The original settlers were wealthy," Han explained. "Well, maybe not by royal standards," he qualified, "but the rest of us workin' stiffs would think so. You know the type," he added, "folks who're willing to go well out of their way to make sure nobody bugs 'em. And those same kinds of folks are sometimes the kind who're willing to pay whatever it takes to get their favorites brought out to 'em."

"I see," Leia replied. "But if that's the case, how's the Alliance able to afford the wares we're going to pick up now?"

"The way they explained it to me," Han answered, taking another sip from his mug, "the guy we're goin' to meet has rebel sympathies- has for a long time. And he'll be makin' enough off the rest of whatever he's haulin' into Kalyspil that we're gettin' the stuff we're gettin' at cost."

"Well, that's good," she said back. "But then what's this we're talking about picking up ingredients for dinner?" she asked. "Some of this food would be expensive enough as it is without some exorbitant destination markup. We were just talking about sauteeing berm tubers in pimberry oil. How is the Alliance going to afford a bottle of pimberry oil- especially at the inflated prices you're talking about?"

"Not the Alliance, sweetheart," Han replied, "me. You know, they do pay me for these trips I keep making. And even though it's a criminally paltry sum by comparison to what I should be making, seein' as they've also been feedin' us and keepin the ship up and running, I've managed to put away a little. And what's the use of havin' money if you're not willin' to spend a little every now and again? We'll have whatever we like outa that market," he assured the others "and maybe a little to share back at base."

"Mmm," Leia sounded, taking the final sip from her cup of tea as she curled her legs underneath herself where she sat in the navigator's seat, "I'm looking forward to it. Now," she added, "can we get back to the subject of Gatalentan grain pudding? Because I really don't understand why we can't make them. Chewie, explain it again- why we need an oven?"


	7. Chapter 7

SEVEN

Plenty of times in Han Solo's short but already-storied career running supplies for the Rebel Alliance he'd wondered why the hell he'd stuck around. There had been Imperial blockades and run-ins with stormtroopers. There had been garrisons and double-crossers, and shooting his way in and out of markets and spaceports. There had been a lot of hell and a lot of guff , and a lot of the kind of scrutiny a smuggler's forged paperwork wasn't designed to stand up to.

This trip to Kalyspil had been none of those things. The system had been a beast to navigate, but the planet itself was perhaps the most hospitable Solo had visited in the service of the rebellion. The planet had only one small settlement, an enclave of weather-controlled wealth and leisure near the equator. It was a prosperous place, but small enough as to mostly have escaped the Empire's notice.

The Millennium Falcon's landing permit had been handled by the contact they were there to meet. They'd had no trouble getting into the merchant spaceport and the message that was waiting for them when they arrived told Han that their delivery was prepared and awaiting payment. It had crossed his mind for a moment to maybe put a rush on things- to get the payment handled, get the cargo on board, and get gone. It's what he would have done under any other circumstance.

But the fact remained he'd designed this trip to have them idle on the surface for two days in order to enforce Leia's R&R. And he knew Leia well enough to know that he had to make the downtime appear necessary or else she'd insist on getting back to base as soon as possible. So he did what he could to drag his heels on payment.

Han got the money transferred to their contact just in time for close of business and arranged for delivery of their intended cargo first thing the next morning. He'd talked Leia into turning in early, too- reminding her of the time difference and the early morning they had ahead of them had been a useful tactic in getting Leia to sit the past. Appealing to her sense of responsibility had always gotten him better results than appealing to her sense of self-preservation. Leia would do just about anything for the Alliance- even get a good night's sleep on occasion.

They'd woken up at what Han figured to be a reasonable hour on Kalyspil and had enough time for a cup of caf before the delivery arrived. He'd seen to the initial arrival before taking off to handle some business at the spaceport. The entire ostensible reason for Leia being along on this trip was for her to be the one to inspect the cargo, and Han was sure that Chewie wouldn't let her do any of the heavy lifting. And he needed to see to it that the Falcon's exit permit wasn't valid until tomorrow. He wanted the full day on the ground for Leia's benefit, and he had to make sure that could happen.

Dealing with spaceport control was easy enough- the arrangements for the second overnight on Kalyspil had already been made by his contact, fees paid up, so Han's time away had been minimal. The cargo was still being taken onboard when he returned, but only the last of it. Just as he'd insisted, Leia had done the receiving and inspection, but had left it entirely to Chewbacca to get the pallets aboard the Falcon.

"Everything in order, your highness?" Han asked. Leia nodded and handed over the datapad the merchant had left her with the cargo manifest.

"Looks good," she replied. "And I extend my thanks on behalf of the women of the Alliance to Restore the Republic." Han winked at her.

"I can't say I'm displeased to have so many women beholden to me," he said back. Leia rolled her eyes as she leaned back against a pallet and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm just glad I'm not one of them," she said back. Han frowned. That made no sense. Leia could see his confusion easily. Han Solo might have a legendary sabacc face, but sometimes he wore his feelings right out in the open. "I've had an implant since I was twelve," she explained.

"Huh," Solo sounded, still obviously confused. "Twelve?" he asked, "Really? Isn't that a little young for birth control?" Leia shook her head again and sighed. What was it with men and their abject failure to understand the workings of the female body?

"Some places, maybe," she allowed, "but not wanting to be pregnant isn't the only reason to have an implant, you know…?" Han frowned again. Clearly he didn't. "On Alderaan, anyway," she continued, trying to get him to understand at least a little, "if a girl has regular cycles, and they're regularly painful, then she can have an implant- whatever age she happens to be."

"Oh."

"You sound so scandalized."

"Since you were twelve," he asked again, "really?" Leia shook her head, unsure as to whether she was more exasperated or amused at his ignorance.

"They only last for five years or so," she explained, "I accidentally let it expire when I was seventeen. That's a long time to go without having to think about something. Two months without it and I had the Royal Physician by her lapels demanding a replacement." Han chuckled. The idea of an irate teenage Leia taking out her wrath on a member of the royal household was somehow the most hilarious thing he'd heard in a while. "What's so funny?" she asked. Han shook his head.

"Just picturing you manhandling the Royal Physician," he answered honestly. Leia shrugged.

"It wasn't my finest moment," she admitted. "But I was hormonal and in pain."

"What might the Royal Physician think of the pain you're in right now?" he asked. Leia shrugged again.

"She'd have me locked in my room and confined to bed," she answered.

"She could do that?"

"She had armed guards at her disposal."

"And all I've got is a Wookiee," Han countered. Leia laughed at that.

"She saw my mother through a near fatal injury when she was young, and being the only child of a royal couple… they'd have kept me locked in a padded room if they thought I'd put up with it. I had moor pox when I was nine and I thought I'd never be allowed out of the palace again for fear I'd catch something worse."

"There's something worse than moor pox?" Han asked, only half joking.

"So I've been told. It had been eradicated on Alderaan," she shared, "that''s why I was never vaccinated. But we had a very generous refugee program…."

"And you got sick anyway," Han finished. Leia nodded.

"It doesn't matter how safe you play it," she said. "Bad stuff happens. All a person can do is get through it and try to move forward."

"Just don't try to move too fast."

"Han," she addressed him firmly, "I really am fine."

"No, you're really not," he insisted. "Remember, I saw it. Just two nights ago, I saw it. Maybe you're gonna be okay, but you're not there yet. And as the guy who sat with you when you were delirious with fever- who watched you almost die… on my ship- I just need you to be a little extra careful, okay? What would the Royal Physician say to your spending the afternoon in the marketplace?"

"Probably something about those armed guards I mentioned."

"Well, I'm fresh out of armed guards. And if it came down to you versus me where Chewie is concerned, I can't say I'm confident I'd be the winner. So I'm not going to try and stop you from coming with us this afternoon. But I gotta have your promise that you won't try to act like nothing's wrong. You've still got an open wound in your side, highness," he reminded her, "there ain't nothin' wrong with takin' it a little easy, okay? So you gotta promise me that you'll sit down every now and then- and that you'll tell us if you're startin' to feel bad." Leia reached out to Han and squeezed his fingers.

"I promise."

"And now you gotta promise that you'll agree to leave if I say we need to leave."

"Han," Leia began to argue. But he took his fingers from her hand and pointed one in her face before she had the chance to say anything else.

"No," he interrupted. "Nobody ought to be the colors I saw you turn on the way back from Skorii-Lei. If you start to get all flushed like you've got a fever, or start to turn that white that says you're bleedin' again, you're comin' back to the ship to lie down if I have to get Chewie to carry you." Leia took a deep breath. It wasn't often that Han got this intense about things. And it wasn't like he was asking too much. She was sure that her recovery was far enough along that neither of the problems he'd just mentioned were liable to come up. It really shouldn't bother her that he was less aware of the state of her health than she was.

"All right," she said, "you've got a deal." Solo smiled. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the princess quite so agreeable. He wondered if it was just her stomach talking- they'd had a good two days of discussing possible delicacies to bring back to Yavin with them. In truth, they'd discussed little else since the day they'd gorged themselves on sizzle cakes. But whatever it was that had motivated Leia's good humor, he was happy for it.

"Hey Chewie," Han called then, "Let's hurry up and get this stuff on board! Her highness wants to go shopping!"


	8. Chapter 8

EIGHT

The afternoon spent in the market had been the most fun Leia had had in a while. Chewie had been a good monitor of which ingredients, and in what quantities, could be properly stored aboard the Falcon- including in what order things would need to be cooked to maximize the fresh foods and the tiny cooler. Leia would never have guessed before this trip that her Wookiee friend knew so much about food, but it was an interesting development, and she was likely to enjoy it immensely on the voyage home.

As excited as they all were for the culinary plans Chewbacca had been making for the return trip to base, when Han had suggested getting dinner out in town on Kalyspil, Leia had been all for it. The day out shopping had been surprisingly energizing- not at all as taxing on her system as both she and Han had feared it might be. Apparently, getting a little exercise had been good for her constitution. The pain in her side had scarcely gotten in the way- only the occasional dizziness or cotton-mouth from her pain relief patches had really bothered her at all. And her friends had been more than accommodating.

She hadn't been thrilled at first about the idea of being away from base for so long as this trip was going to take, but she was glad now that she'd agreed to come along. The supplies they were here to retrieve really were vital to the Alliance's future well-being, so it wasn't like she was out here wasting time. And a few days of sitting mostly idle, eating good food, and being forced to relax a little had done wonders for her recovery. It had already been a good trip and it was only halfway over.

She'd begun to wonder if it could stay this nice. Usually, when things were going along this swimmingly, she and Han tended to find something to quarrel and snipe about and the whole thing got spoiled. Part of her was waiting for that particular shoe to drop on this run. But another part of her was pretty well convinced that wasn't going to happen. No one, she figured, could be in a squabbling mood when they were this well-fed and well-rested. And dinner out seemed like just the thing to cap off their day in good spirits.

Leia had been a bit surprised when Chewie had elected not to come along to diner in town. At first, she'd been worried that maybe they'd hurt his feelings- planning to have dinner out when they'd all just spent the day planning for him to cook delicious things. But Han had explained that wasn't the case. Chewie just didn't enjoy cramming himself into human-sized fixtures. And as much as he was skilled in cooking dishes that both he and his human pals found appetizing, most restaurants didn't have offerings to appeal to Wookiee palates. It wasn't worth the money or the discomfort for him to join Han and Leia at dinner. But there was no offense taken, and he'd wished them a nice dinner before returning to the market on the way to the Falcon. He'd seen a few things in one of the stalls that he wouldn't mind at all cooking for only himself.

It was Han who had been surprised when Leia had objected to his first choice of dinner venue. He'd been really sneaky when he'd asked that pastry vendor quietly where the best restaurant in town was, and he'd had to be double sneaky (and had needed considerable help from Chewie to distract the princess) when he'd called to reserve a table. He'd thought that an upscale Ursumari place that served real Alderaanian Toniray would be a hit with her highness. But she'd been entirely against the idea when he'd shared it with her.

They'd compromised on a banged-up but cozy fusion cuisine place with faux-wood paneled walls and a live band that was just a little too loud in the main dining room. Leia hadn't minded the noise. The band was good, playing a mix of Old-Republic-Era Coruscanti pop hits, many of which Leia recognized and enjoyed. And it had been a long time since she'd heard live music. The fixtures in the place might have been tired, but the food was fresh and delightful. Leia couldn't remember the last time she'd had a salad so colorful. And their entrees- both of them had ordered some variation of roasted meat, stewed beans and tubers, and fresh baked bread- had hit the spot.

If this was how it was likely to be, she might let Han Solo take her out to dinner more often. They were waiting for dessert to arrive- a cold mocoa and local fruit dish that the serving droid had touted as the restaurant's most popular- when the band announced they were going on break. Leia smiled across the table at Han, who was gulping down the end of his third mug of Ale. Leia had admonished him gently when he'd ordered it, but even over the din he'd managed to remind her that their permit to take off wasn't active until the morning. Rotou Ale wasn't particularly intoxicating, but even if he were to get buzzed tonight, he'd have plenty of time to sleep it off before he had to fly. Leia, who had been nursing a single bitter floral cocktail (she'd been warned about alcohol and her pain control measures interacting badly, and she didn't want Han Solo to have to _carry her_ back to the ship), had let it go.

When the dessert arrived, Leia couldn't help but gape at it a little. The thing was huge. No wonder the recommendation was to share. As far as she was concerned, there was enough fruit, pastry, and mocoa cream in that bowl for an entire fighter squadron. Han was characteristically nonplussed. He downed the end of his ale, grabbed a spoon, and dug in immediately. Leia poked at the confection with the tip of her spoon and took a tiny first bite. The cream wasn't as sweet as she'd feared. It was delicious.

"Thank you for this," she remembered to say to Han as he was tipping his small glass into the fountain of water built into their table for just that purpose. "It's been really nice."

"Don't mention it, princess," he answered. He gestured to the water fountain and she nodded. Han picked up a second small tumbler and placed it beneath the fountain as well. "But I gotta ask ya somethin," he said, pushing the water glass toward her. "Tell me the truth," he implored, "I promise you won't hurt my feelings."

Leia felt her stomach tighten. _Here it comes,_ she thought. This trip had been far too easy- far too pleasant. She'd been wondering when the other shoe was going to drop and she and Han were going to go back to their baseline of quarrels and sniping. She was pretty sure this was it.

"All right," she allowed, setting her spoon down beside her to listen.

"How come you didn't let me take you to the fancy place?" he asked then, still digging in to the mountain of dessert between them. "Was it 'cause you thought I'd embarrass you? Did ya think a guy like me wouldn't know the manners, or that I'd be askin' ya stuff about the menu? Were you afraid I'd start eatin' with my fingers or talkin' with my mouth full, or cussin' at the waiters or something?"

Leia shut her eyes and let her chin fall to her chest. That sounded _terrible_. She'd never been the kind of person who judged other people that way. And she hated that one of her few real friends was asking her something like that.

"No," she answered softly. Leia took a deep breath and looked back up at Han. He'd stopped devouring mocoa cream and had his hands folded on the table. "It's not that at all," she assured him. "We haven't known each other that long," she expounded, "but I haven't known you to willingly walk into a situation you weren't prepared to handle. I'm guessing that maybe you've spent a little time in Canto Bight or similar. I can't imagine you'd have suggested somewhere you'd feel out of your depth. No," she repeated, "it's just that. Well…" Leia frowned. There was a lot to unpack about why she didn't want to go someplace nicer for dinner, and she wasn't sure she was ready to share it all. But Han had been so nice- so pleasant and accommodating- on this trip that she wanted to at least be as honest as she could be comfortable with. "First," she began tentatively, "I'd feel underdressed. I know you wouldn't mind, but I'm afraid I'd feel so self-conscious that I'd spoil the whole night." Han let out a dismissive breath and shook his head.

"I've never seen you get self-conscious," he said. Leia shrugged.

"You didn't know me _before_ ," she reminded him. Han ran his hand across his face as he took in a deep breath. "I've never had to be Princess Leia around you," she continued.

'Cept that time you got all dressed up and gave me a medal for bein' a hero."

"Even then," she said, "You knew I had bruises all over that hadn't healed. You'd seen me up to my knees in muck in a garbage compactor," she reminded him. "There was no royal pedestal for me to fall off in your eyes. But with the public… I don't know," she said, "it's just different. I'd feel like I was representing my family- my people- inadequately."

"You know you could never do that, right?" he said back. "You know that putting your life on the line fighting for the future of your people and everyone else means that you're a real credit to your parents' name…?"

"Thank you," she said back, picking up her spoon and beginning to absently twirl it in the mocoa cream. "I appreciate your saying that. My parents worked very hard to get this rebellion off the ground. I'd like to think I'm doing what they'd want me to do. But," she said then, taking a heaping spoonful of mocoa cream and shoveling it into her mouth, "I'm still not sure I'm ready to walk into the kind of place they'd have patronized in a stained flight suit with visible repairs on it."

"Yeah," Han allowed, going back to eating as well. "I could see where their majesties might have something to say about that. I understand. And I'm guessing I was probably real insensitive tryin' to get you to go to a place that would remind you of home. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's all right," she assured him. "There was no way for you to know that I wouldn't feel up to stepping into my old life for an evening. It's not like I talk about it." Han nodded his head at her. That was the truth. Leia liked to keep her feelings to herself, and it hadn't taken Han long to give up on trying to get her to change that. "I know you were just trying to take me somewhere you thought I'd like. And you did," she affirmed. "I've had a really great time tonight."

"Good," Han replied, poking at a purple berry with the end of his spoon.

"And if I ever feel like I'm ready to handle Court manners and Toniray," she said, "you'll be my first call."

"I'd be honored, your highnessness," he said back. "And in the meantime," he added, "do yo think we should have them pack up one of these giant desserts for Chewie?"


End file.
